


Growth Rings(English Version)

by hieroglyphics



Category: True Detective
Genre: Alaska, Anal Sex, Cabins, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Hunters & Hunting, Late at Night, M/M, Memories, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Travel, bottom!Marty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:33:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hieroglyphics/pseuds/hieroglyphics
Summary: Two men.A cabin in the mountain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [年轮 Growth Rings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209797) by [hieroglyphics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hieroglyphics/pseuds/hieroglyphics). 



> a translation of my TD fanfic’年轮 growth rings”.Rust and Marty have a vacation in Alaska in 2013,they come to Travis’s cabin.Sorry again for the mistakes in the text.

The road turns off and goes to its end.There’s a path up into the woods,paved with stones as steps.

Rust stops the car and get off with Marty.They unload the trunk ,labouring the way uphill with food and other stuff.

On the hillside is a flat clearing. A cabin locates beside a stream flowing down from cliffs,with a front yard enclosed by wooden fences. Dense pines and cedars surrounds the small house like a shield.

It’s in early October. They’ve been in Alaska for a week. For Marty, he came to the place thousands of miles away from Louisiana just for an unexpected invitation from Rust, the man occupies his whole life in recent time.

Rust comes here to see his old house today. His father, Travis Cohle, died several years ago. The cabin has been empty since then.

"Planed to sell it, but no buyers.“ Rust goes to the door and puts the luggage down. This is a cabin built by logs, with a sloping roof and a small porch. Rust unlocks the door and it creaks open.

The house is not spacious,with smells of dust and old furs. A fireplace occupies a whole wall.Furnitures in the room are simple but solid without decoration,all used for a long time.

"When I was young we moved several times.Settled here when I was ten. Pop and I rebuilt the roof and bathroom. In summer and autumn we hunt here, move to town in winter. "Rust says dryly,looking around with relaxation.

No family photos, Marty thinks.

There are two single beds beside the door and the window, the bed down the window is covered with thick furs. Marty slumps down in it, burying his fingers in the prickling pelage.

"Pop used to sleep by the door.” Rust says. “Bearskin. Dad said it’s older than I. A hard battle before I was born.”

He takes out some blankets and sheets from the cupboard.

"Old Bill, Pop called it.“ His smile almost imperceptible. "Sometimes I feel it was to tell me some secrets only bears know. ”

They spend the whole afternoon cleaning the house, sweeping dust in the chimney, overhauling the generator and waterworks. They won’t stay long, but Rust says it may snow soon and they must ensure the house in good condition.

"You needn’t do this, Marty.I can do it myself.“ Rust says while hauling the branches from the woods to the house. There are some firewoods in the storage shed beside the cabin, but they need more in case of emergency.

"It’s such a fun, really,” Marty says, “Haven’t been in a cabin since high school.”

Marty’s excited, as if back in his boy scout camping time. But there are something strange in it. As to Rust’s father,Travis,Marty always stands in awe of him. He looks upon Travis as a modern Robert Peary. Here’s the place where Rust grew up and left his odors in air. Shadows of the past hovering. Marty has a feeling, he has set his feet in a forbidden palace and peeping into Rust’s dreams. His curiosity mingles with some vague disturbances.

Marty finds a wooden box when cleaning the attic. The broken lid falls when he moves it. There are some carvings inside. Wooden animals. Rough lines,strange shapes. winged-moose, antlered-fox, owl with human face, and other nameless things. Beneath them are some old rolled-up paper, some paints on the back of posters and bills.Marty recognizes the familiar strokes at first sight.

"Killtime stuff.Never expect Pop to keep them,“ Rust says behind him,putting a cigarette in mouth. "He always said they were waste,no one’d buy them if sold.”

He takes the box to the fireplace, gazing at them for a while. Marty can not see his expression. Then he empties the box and prepares to throw the contents into the fire.

Marty’s not a nostalgist, maybe it’s because immersing in the past is most intolerable to him. But he holds Rust’s arm.

"Wait … I wanna keep it,if you like,“ Martin says, little embarrassed, "Well, Audrey’s friend’s collecting some animal artworks for reference. Won’t tell her they are from you."he lies.

Rust fixes his eyes on him for a minute, then says:"As you like.”

Cold wind blews all day. After a simple supper, Marty step out in the porch while Rust’s fixing the generator.Temperature falls distinctly.Pinery’s roaring and clouds galloping, white mist rising gradually from the foot of the mountain and wind brings smells of moisture. Mountains and forests are still clear in flickering moonlight.

Marty follows a trail into the woods involuntarily. Branches and leaves intertwines above his head, leaving swaying shadows on the ground.

He recalls an adventure in university vacation, he and a girl drove all the way to Las Vegas. At night they stop to have a rest at the roadside. Starry sky enveloped the wildness like a dark dome. It’s strange that he can see the scene vividly now,but forgets the the girl’s name.

He doesn’t know how far he’s been walked. Suddenly the wind ceases and the moon hidden in clouds, dark falls at once. Pines stop whistling, but the forest is still alive.Something’s chirping in the distance. He hears slight rustles, like thousands of tiny feet and teeth. Something’s following him in darkness.

He holds his steps immediately.The noises stop.It’s just an delusion caused by his unreasonable tension.

Marty laughs at himself,like a child afraid of dark. But he quickens his pace unconsciously to the way back.

Dense woods blocking his sight, roots catching his feet, the forest is teasing him. Trunks, branches, rocks, all coagulate in darkness. Forest is expanding endlessly. His heart speeds up.

"Marty?“ Someone’s calling his name. Rust’s voice. Suddenly the spell is broken. He finds the little cabin ahead, not far away,warm light shining in its windows.

"Where have you been?” Rust comes to him. The moon reappears, lighting up the trees and paths.His skin’s as pale as frost in the moonlight,.

"Just a walk.“ Martin says,voice trembling a little.

Rust says nothing,just placing his hand on Marty’s back. They return the house together.

Marty’s tossing and turning in the bearskin-covered bed. He always sleeps well untill that deadly case,which often drags him into pitch-black nightmare.Now he doubts whether insomnia is contagious and he’s been infected by Rust.He’s lying there,eyes half-closed ,listening to the wind outside the window, the creaks of woods, the gurgling of water,and various other sounds mixed in them,trying to recognize the familiar breaths from the other bed.

Marty is anxious. Office phone keeps ringing but it’s time to pick up Audrey and Macie from school. His car breaks down on the way, he has to get off to walk. Overgrown green weeds turn into stuffy black pines. Trees, trees. Grotesque creatures’re dancing, feathers, hooves, tails brushing his legs. Some animal’s caught in trap, he can’t leave it there.The trap is dark, Old Bill’s there. His pelage is so warm. No, that’s not a bearskin, he’s touching the skin of a man.The man sleeping aside.Warm, moist skin. Muscles are heaving, pulse is beating, blood is running. His fingers grope the healed scars,following them, until——

Crows are crying outside the window, waking Marty up from the dream. He props himself up,wondering where he is. There’s only some ash left in the fireplace. Dim light comes through the window . Rust is not in the bed beside the door.

He gets dressed and opens the door.A cold wind sends chills to his muscles. The sun is not up yet, sky has turned from dark to caesious. The world is all in blue.Soft, pure and tranquil.

Before Marty can look around something cold hits him in face all at once, he can see nothing at all.

"Shit,” he wipes his face with hands and finds Rust coming from the fence with a handful of snow. He can see now,the ground, forests and mountains are covered with snow, their shapes blending into the clear sky before sunrise.

"You freak, how old are you?“ Marty grabs some snow from the windowsill.

Snowballs fly in air and later the snow fight develops into wrestling. Finally they fall into a pile with snow all over clothes and hair.Marty’s lying on his back gasping while Rust riding on him and locking his arms. Rust can feel Marty’s hot puffs on his face and sweaty skin in his hands. His heart’s hitting the chest.

"Good job, where did you learn it?” Marty gives up struggling, “teach me later.”

"Brazilian jiu-jitsu, when in Miami. Heavy burden to joints. Take care of your shoulders if you do it.“ Rust releases him and let out a breath.

They’re lying in snow. Marty looks at the blue sky and pine branches overhead. Cold fresh air stimulates his lungs,making him laugh.

He paddles his arms and legs,sweeping out windmill-like traces on the snow. Rust looks round at him oddly.

"You don’t know? It’s a snow angel.” Marty grins, “Heard from my old man, always wanna try it.”

"Never seen an angel in pajamas.“ Rust kicks on a trunk aside.Marty’s almost buried by the fallen snow.


	2. Chapter 2

The snow lasts for a whole night.In the morning,the weather clears up. Snow is dazzling in the sun. The haze in the valley has been dissipated and the mountains miles away are clear in sight,mottled with white and brown . The snow on the roof soon begins to melt in the sun, water dripping from the eaves and branches.

They spent the whole morning repairing the fences and roofs, cleaning the drains on the eaves. Marty finds a giant hemlock lying in the stream behind the house, almost blocking the water. It's snapped from the roots,the sturdy stump still standing by the river, covered by snow,half has been charred, and on the other half of the section,the fine growth rings are distinguishable .

"It was the tallest tree here,and we called it'beacon'."Rust says,standing on the roof,"I used it to keep track of time.The roof was rebuilt with its timber.Always wanted to climb to its top to find how far I could see,but never succeeded.It was struck down by lightning several years ago,Couldn't move it,so left it there."

"Think positively,how can I find a better place to fish?"Marty says.

In the afternoon, Marty proposes to have a walk into the forest to see those traps. Rust knows he can't resist his curiosity. Before they set out, Rust takes out a double-barrel shotgun and a box of bullets from the attic.

"In Alaska, you get into the forest, you're in the food chain right now - never at the top of it anymore." Rast mumbles,checking the barrel and the trigger carefully.

Marty takes the shotgun from him. It was a Stoeger, slender and lighter than Marty supposed. The fine grain of the wooden gunstock has been rubbed into a color of chestnut, but the metal parts and trigger is still glossy,almost unstained. Marty feels it in his palms, a chill running down his back.

"This is my first gun," Rast wipes the dust off the gun. "Used it to kill my first prey."

 

Rust was thirteen. A winter evening, Travis and he searched in the forest to check the traps and lassos. Rust never liked the work. He didn't want to hear the whines of those animals. Travis never prolonged their pain. When he killed them, Rust would take a few steps away and turn his face aside.

But that day when he looked at the slope, he found a wolf staring at them.

The figure of the wolf is skinny, with a coat dull and dirty. Its eyes were greedy and desperate. Rust could make out the glint of its teeth and yellow eyes.

Travis squated, with his back to it, only a hunting knife in hand. The shotgun was carried by Rust.

When the wolf pounced on Travis,he caught it from the corner of his eyes in a glimpse. He only had a second to roll away, defending with his knife instinctively. The knife was knocked off,flying to the ground several feets away.

Travis was on his feet immediately,benting down,confronting the beast,totally unarmed. The wolf must have been injured, it growled with grudge, a few drops of blood fell on the snow.

Rust hastily reached for his shotgun. His hands and foot were trembling hard. Travis had taught him how to shoot, but only in stationary targets. He'd never faced a living beast so close. But there was only one chance for him,he knew it.

The wolf bounced up again - and Rust pulled the trigger. The gunfire shook his eardrum,for a minute,he couldn't hear anything but a white noise.

The beast fell to the ground, but soon struggled to get up and dashed into the woods. Travis didn't chase it.

Rust clutched his gun tightly, still shuddering. Travis trotted back, wrapped him with arms. Rust felt his father's hands stroking his hair. This was one of the scarce memories of hugs from his old man.

They went back to their cabin. That night Rust run a high fever. Travis carried him to the town's hospital. Three days, the only thing he remembered was cold sweat and wet pillows, yellow eyes and twisted fangs. When he was awake, he saw his father beside the bed, holding his hand in his own.

He recovered after a week. They found the wolf dead in the forest. The bullets hit its abdomen, and it had walked for ten miles before fell down. They didn't take it back as usual, but buried it there.In front of the little unmarked grave, Travis let Rust fire a shot with the gun.

"He's your first prey, and now he's with you, here." Travis pressed his hand on Rust's chest. "You will never feel fear of them anymore."

He put the shotgun in Rust's hands. "This is for you.Take care of it."

 

"Come here Rust,look at this."Marty's voice brings him back.They've walked along the stream for an hour.Beside an abandoned trap two miles away from the upper reaches of the river, Marty stops. Rust comes to him and sees the huge footprints in the melting snow.

"I bet it's a bear." Marty says,a little excited.

"A brown bear, and now is their important time of the year to store energy for the hibernation," Rust says. He searches in his memory, but can't remember finding bear's traces so close to the cabin.

"What are you doing?" Rust notices Marty take out his phone.

"Can you take a picture for me?" Marty scratches his nose, with some embarrassment. "You know, Audrey and Macie haven't called me for some time.I think nowadays young girls are keen on communicating online ... so I registered on Twitter."

"You are wasting your time," Rust shakes his head. "The easiest way is to give them a call."

"Well, seems I'm asking the wrong person," Marty raises his phone. "Maybe I should post your photos on it - a Bear Grylls of Alaska - That will make the girls follow me."

Rust turns his back on Marty, leaving him a middle finger.


	3. Chapter 3

The wind turns stronger at night. They are both settled beside the fireplace,a glass in hand. Marty is satisfied he's brought some Jamsons here, though he's been worrying all the time for breaking them on the way, But in this seclusion far from civilization, without TV and radio, you really have nothing to kill time at night.

"How did you usually spend your time at night?" Marty asks, "you and your old man,I mean."

"Nothing," said Rust, leaning against the chair, facing the fireplace. "I read, my pop did some handwork.Too much work to do and little time to loaf away. Most nights we just sit here without a word. Sometimes he talked something of the past, but mostly talking to himself,I suppose."

He picks up the cup. "Sometimes I got out and hang around in the woods."

"You don't fear the beasts?" Marty remembers the forest in the moonlight the night before.

"I could feel them when something was around.And pop always came out for me."

"Still remember his stories.He was tired of sultry weather,tired of people's faces when he came back from Vietnam.He always talked about places faraway.He liked wild,liked to live with animals,hated to dwell in one place too long.Without me,he would spend the rest of his life in Tierra Del Fuego."

"Did you meet him after that...back here?"

"Several phone calls.Met twice - after I was back."

He's quiet for a while,fixing his gaze on the flickering flame.

"Police called me that day.They found him on the trail of hemlocks.His truck was crashed on a tree.Nothing unusual.They said it was a heart attack."

"No guns.No personal things."He says,voice steady."Pop always said he admired wild animals,they die alone with dignity,never have to worry about the fucking bills of hospital.That must have been his own choice."

Marty looks at him for a while.Rust's half-closed eyes fix on the flames,blankly, something glittering under the heavy lids.

"I believe he'd got what he wanted now."Marty clears his throat after a minute.He tyies to say something more,but can't find the words.

Finally he gets it."Don't worry for bills,I've bought insurance for us."

A little sound leaves Rust's lips,like a snort.

 

The pines outside are swaying,the wind whistling through the cracks of the windows.Flames are leaping quietly in the fireplace while shadows dancing in the small space of the room.

Whose face in the mirror?Pop?Head grey and eyes weary,like a withered tree,the whole world's load engraved on his forehead.No.That's him.Rust Cohle.

Old Buck,the furrier of the town, drove away disappointedly after another unsuccessful invitation of the service of Christmas Eve.Travis sit himself on the woodpile and watched him leaving.

"The people down there,"he removed the pipe from his mouth."They want too much,always lost in mist.Love,visions,vanity.The illusion weakens you.The stronger needs none of them.People live on the mountain,but the mountain never need anyone."

"I'm going."Rust said."Don't want my children to grow up as I did."

\- Your wife,your kid,where are they?They don't need you,as you don't need them.

Pop is watching him in the mirror,just like the time he said goodbye and left Alaska decades ago,

Maybe you are right,Pop,Need no one and never be needed.Anyway,the only truth of life is to live,and die.

But why are you still so sad?

 

"Rust?Something's out there."

Rust opens his eyes and finds Marty standing in front of him,half-dressed,one hand on his arm.

He hears it too.The wind calms down and there's some strange noise,like something moving outside in the dark.

Rust hastily gets dressed,beckons Marty to stay.Then he opens the door and slips out.

The moon is bright and the snow-covered ground glimmers in the pale moonlight.Dark pines stand silently.Rust scouts around the house,everything is in its place.When he gets to the storage hut on the other side of the yard,he finds the door open and the bolt smashed.Snow around the hut is trampled into a mess.

He crouches down to examine the footprints on the snow.In the meanwhile,a strange noise of masticating rises,makes all his flesh creep.

He looks up. Moonlight silhouettes the giant figure of a brown bear,about twenty yards from him.At the sight of the intruder,the bear stops munching and slowly straightens by its foot,growling from the back of its throat.

Rust keeps still.His heart beats wildly,but he tries to calm his breath.The wind runs through the trees and rustles the branches.Cold snow sprinkles on his face.

He loses his time,untill the bear puts down its paws on the ground,and walks back to the woods with the remanence of the food.

When the figure melts into the dark,Rust exhales sharply.He looks back and finds Marty standing behind him,several steps away.The shotgun in his hands points at the direction where the bear disappears.Rust walks to him.Marty is completely motionless,like totally unaware of the other man's approaching.

The gun is loaded,safety off.Marty stands there stiff,frenetic eyes wide open,knuckles turn white around the trigger.His body is shuddering, hardly noticeable,cold sweat glittering on his forehead.

Rust puts his hand on the barrel,gently presses it down.He wraps his arm around Marty's shoulder.

"It's alright.It's gone."

Marty breathes out and lowers his gun.Rust takes the shotgun from his hands.Marty yanks his head,rubbing his face with palms.Suddenly he feels dazed and staggers a little.Rust steadies him with his arms.making their way back to the cabin.


	4. Chapter 4

They get back in the house and lock the door behind them. Only then they find their underwear all wet in sweat. Rust puts some wood in the fireplace to light the fire again.

"Never run into a bear within ten yards before. Damn, the fucker is much uglier than its cousins in the circus. "Marty tries to make a weak smile.

"Bears seldom take the chance to attack human before hibernation - unless they feel threat. The place has been abandoned for too long, maybe it had smelt of the food outside."

Rust guides Marty into his chair and hands him a beer.

"- I should have thought of that. Some people here usually lure bears with food and shoot them. If Pop caught the fellows he would definitely teach them a good lesson."

Marty can't concentrate on Rust's words. He tosses the beer off, fingers shaking.

"You alright?" Rust studies him.

Marty takes several seconds to find his voice.

"Not really." He shakes his head slowly," I froze, when I touched the gun - just couldn't pull the trigger - like, you standing there with the knife in your stomach, but I can't stop him-"

he buries his face in hands." If something happens again but I can't help you...I'll never forgive myself."

Rust looks at him. He's been aware of it for some time.It's been fifteen months since that day - Marty never picks up his gun again.

Marty lowers his head, watching his shadow swaying by the fire. The shadow of another man comes close. Rust's hand lifts up his face and Marty feels himself wrapped by Rust's hot breath.

Their lips meet and entangle. Marty's heart still beats wildly, he gasps. Rust gropes under his shirt, fingers running along the rib cage, as if he wants to hold his heart in hand. When they finally part, Marty takes Rust's hand.

"Come here," Rust says briefly.

Marty lies down in Rust's bed, dizzily, under the gaze of the man looking down at him. Rust takes off his clothes and underwear, leaves them on the ground. His knees wedge between Marty's legs, the mattress creaks under his weight.

"Forget that gun, and the damn bear." He unbuttons Marty's shirt.

"You serious?"

In fact, Marty knows. They haven't touched each other since the camping day. Rust still sleeps in the guest room. Sometimes Marty wakes at night, he can't sleep, just staring at the half-closed door. He doesn't know what he is waiting for. But they are both waiting, for a word, an answer.

Rust doesn't reply. His face sinks to Marty's neck, hair tickles Marty's skin.

Soon, all the barriers collapse. They cling to each other, their hot skin pressing and rubbing, like thirsty travelers in the desert, desperately seeking for water in darkness .

Rust buries his face between Marty's thighs, the wet touches of his soft tongue make Marty shiver. He clenched Rust's hair unconsciously.

"No, no, slow down, I'm gonna -"

Rust stops. He looks up, fire shining in his eyes.

"Do you believe me, Marty?"

His voice is soft, like a sigh, roughen by the desire.

"I want you."

The fire is dancing, crackling quietly. Rust's whole body is tinted amber by the flames, from the twisty scar in the abdomen to the soft curls on his forehead. His hair glows as flaring hay. The black bird, with all its gaunt bones and broken feathers, comes to life.

Marty wonders if he's in a dream, but he knows he's never been so sober. He suddenly recalls the night of the first date with Maggie - the fear, already been forgotten for so long, hit him like a bolt. For the first time, he feels his destiny in the hands of the other man. Rust brings their boat to the edge of the waterfall, the turbulent current roaring around, they're overwhelmed by the unresistable power, floating to the point of no return - things are totally out of his control, he's half-dazed, but excited as well.

"I do."

I believe you, Rust, no matter where you take me.

Marty reaches out, touching the other man's neck and chest. He finds a smile glitter in Rust's eyes .

 

Rust leans over and lets Marty's legs around his waist. He lubricates his fingers and slides them into Marty's body. Flexing and spreading, he feels the other man holding his breath, muscles tightening.

"You're so tense. Don't tell me you brag about all the old jokes," Rust whispers in his ear, biting his jaw and Adam's apple softly, fingers still busy.

Marty snorts out. He used to enjoy this with women. He misses the sweet crazy time in Maggie's room, but for some reason, he can't ask Maggie for it after they married. But with Rust ... No one can compare with Rust.

The first tension disappears and the familiar pleasure gradually grows. Marty is so desperate for this feeling that he's almost in fear.

Rust is lubricating himself, his hard length ruts against Marty's groin. They both breathe heavily.

"You're okay?" Rust asks, a little breathless. Marty thinks he's the same. Like many times before, he never knows if it's right or not, but his body makes the decision for him.

But when Rust pulls out his fingers and dives himself into him, Marty feels an unexpected pain rise from his caudal vertebra, he almost can't breathe. He doesn’t realize he's completely unprepared for it - nobody can do. Rust feels Marty's breath pausing for a moment, then he inhales hard, nails sinking into Rust's shoulder.

Rust's scalp suddenly tingles by the contraction of tight muscle, the beast inside is wriggling. He tries his best to control himself, but can't halt for too long.

"How's that?"

"Fuck ... you asshole," Marty pants between his teeth. "I'm not dead yet."

"Good." Rust's voice becomes unstable, Marty's not sure he's gasping or laughing. Rust lifts Marty's leg up and begins to push in.

"Relax."

Marty feels himself falling, he tries to catch something, but the only one he can get is Rust. In all his sex experiences, he has never been so desperate and afraid as now. He has to hold on to Rust like a drowning man, and Rust is his last hope. The fur under the sheet is scratching his back. The pain dulls and shivers spread down his spine, his blood turns to burning alcohol, flooding all his veins like the spring tide. Marty's vision blurs, he finds himself begin to follow the other man's rhythm. His heavy breath mingles with Rust's.

You feel good Marty? Rust keeps asking, his whisper mixing with snatchy breath. Marty is enchanted by the voice, he loves his name being spoken out like that, pouring honey and wine into his ears, healing his pains. But he can't speak, the only thing he can do is groaning helplessly in the back of his throat, like a sobbing child. He arches backward, bending like a tight bow, covering his eyes with his arms.

Rust leans in and removes his arms aside. His fingers run along the lines of Marty's healed clavicle and pulsating neck, sliding into his mouth,feeling the moist tongue around his fingers - he almost lose his self-control.

Marty can't move his eyes. He has never seen Rust like this. His sweaty hair, shiny skin, undulating muscles and looming tendons, all glow with the inner vitality, like a dazzling flame.

In all the years he knows about Rust, Marty has never seen him ask for anything. Even the world in front of him, Rust won't spare a glance for it. You need anything? How many times Marty asks him since they left the hospital - He doesn't know how to ease his worry for the man. But the answer is always a cold "no."

What does he want? How many times Marty asks himself. One day, Rust gave him an answer.

I want too much, no one in this world can afford.- He remembers Rust was quiet for a while before answering, like talking in a dream.

But now, Rust is no longer a ghost in the night fog, a stone statue on the tomb. Marty has long forgotten, Rust is also made from warm flesh, turbulent emotion and unfathomable desire. He is the abyss under the sea, the snow-covered volcano.

In the silent night of the moutain, for the first time,he discovers what Rust wants. That is so simple, but he is so blind.

Rust is ice, Rust is flame - he will burn him, but Marty doesn't care. He is dazzled by the beautiful soul. He wants to embrace this flame with all his life, even that may burn them to ash.

Rust suddenly slides out, with the lost, Marty feels like falling from the clouds. He lets out a moan.

Rust gestures Marty to turn around with his back to him, bracing himself with arms and knees. Before Marty can adjust his breath, Rust bumps in again from behind. Marty cries out by the force.

"Fuck, Rust..."

"Sorry," Rust rasps, tightening his grip of Marty's ass and speeding up the pace. Marty has to bury his face in the pillow, biting his lips, groping blindly to get an anchor. Rust holds his hand, reaching for Marty's dick with the other hand and working him steadily. Sparklers glare deep inside, pain and ecstasy flush through his nerves. It's too much - Marty thinks he can't stand anymore - his legs trembling, his brain inundated with white light, his body screaming frantically with pleasure - maybe that's his real cry.

They both soar to the peak. Marty reaches his orgasm and releases - shortly after him, Rust comes too.

 

They both slump in the bed, sweaty bodies entwined, waiting for their heartbeats to calm down.

"You cried as an injured moose," Rust giggles, his hand still on Marty's hip. "You might draw wolves here."

"I should know you're a beast, bastard."

"You're complaining, Marty?"

"Fuck off, Rust," Marty finds a cigarette in the drawer of the bedside table, lighting it up. "Don’t let it get to your head."

He turns around to avoid eye contact, smoking silently.

Rust looks at him for a while, taking the cigarette from his hand and pulling in a puff .

"I've searched for your on web," says Marty, turning back to him, "only found your father's death record."

"I've phoned you, too," Rust exhales.

They're lying quietly. listening to the slight crackling of the fire. Rust stubs his cigarette in the ashtray, gets up from the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleep, in the other bed."

"Stay." Marty wraps Rust's waist with his arms. "What if the bear gets back?"

 

The next day, the snow almost melts. They're back to the "lighthouse". This time they find something they hadn't noticed before. At the base of the dead roots, some small saplings have poked their heads out of the earth, their fresh branches and leaves resting on the dark stumps. The branches are still so slender, but they're growing stronger.

Rust crouches down, touching the tender branches carefully.

Creatures in mountain never feel too much pain. They are born to the world, grow, fight, die, regenerate and become part of the mountain. They don't ask why, just follow the mysterious calls of nature. Human wants too much, but misses the origin. The world runs with its own laws, never stop for anyone. All the death and rebirth are destiny of the nature.- Travis once said.

Marty is right, Rust thinks. Pop has got what he was always looking for. Maybe one day, they will find what they want too.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally finish this - a rough exercise of translation without beta.If there're readers come here to the end,thank you very much!


End file.
